Chapter Two

~ Eliana ~

A chill, pine-infused breeze brushed my cheeks, mingling with the damp scent of horse, of something else human—but not so.

Hoofs rolled against soft soil at a canter by the three beat thuds. An arm braced about my middle, holding me against a warm body so closely, we moved as one to the rhythm of the horse's lope.

"You are awake." Words reverberated through my spine, awakening my last memories. It was the snow haired man. The man who had killed the vile man, who had won me at action, in order to possess me for himself. He'd escaped the soldiers and taken me. I remembered his eyes; pure black fury.

I began writhing in his grip, fear of what he did in the town, of what he could do to me drowning out every other rational thought.

"Hey careful, you'll hurt yourself." He wasn't wrong, my injured back seared, the slicing pain blinding, but I fought on until he let out a growl of frustration, and let me go, slowing the horse to a halt. I tumbled from the saddle, biting down on the inside of my cheek from the pain.

He slid from the horse. I scrambled to my unsteady feet. He put his arms out, a peace gesture. I backed away, feet tripping over sticks and pine needles, heart slamming against my starved ribs, waves of dizziness threatening to drag me under once again.

"Stay away from me!" My voice came out husky from the rope, from my earlier screams.

"I will not hurt you, I'm here to help you."

I snorted, stepping back further into a group of young pines. "You think me a fool? The last man who promised help, threw me into a cage." I knew I had no hope of escaping him, nevertheless, I ignored the bite of flayed skin at my back, and darted about for a stick, seizing a hefty pine branch.

"Put that down, Eliana, you'll hurt yourself." He muttered, distracted as he searched the pockets of his charcoal trousers, pulling out a folded parchment. My heart stuttered out, my grip slackening on the futile, makeshift weapon. How did he know my name?

For the first time I met his gaze. His eyes weren't black anymore. Perhaps I had imagined such a monster? Instead they were a golden ochre… I stared at him, my entire body going weak as he closed the gap between us, holding the parchment before him like a white flag. I gripped the branch tighter, a warning he noted. Once I had taken the note between my shaky fingers, he took three respectful steps back.

I recognised Petra's scrawled healers writing.

Little Firefly, you can trust Geralt.

I looked away from the letter, catching the hopeful purse of his straight mouth, and narrowed my eyes to pick up on any tells. "How do I know you are this, Geralt?" His right brow raised a fraction. I hauled on my branch, brandishing it in his direction. "You could have stolen this note."

"Keep reading, Eliana." His tongue rolled my name, impatient, causing my heart to stammer in my chest once again. I went back to the note, realising nowhere stated my true name.

Because I know you are the smart girl you are, and will question the poor soul's existence, know this; his eyes may be gold, but one of those blades strapped to his back is wrought of pure silver.

The eyes were enough to convince me. All at once, I couldn't keep my knees locked beneath me, such was the wave of relief which knocked me to the carpet of pine-needles.

The world tilted for the second time today, the ebbing pain carving flames down my spine, where the drying blood tugged at my shift. A sob worked its way unbidden from my chest. It hurt, but I was safe, Petra had sent help. This man, whoever he was, I could perhaps trust.

~Geralt~

"It's alright." I moved the short distance to where she'd fallen to her knees. She shook her head, as if trying to clear it, blue-green eyes an ocean of suffering.

Kneeling, I chanced tilting her chin, catching her gaze with my own. Despite the short letter, she was scared, and rightly so. Apart from the obvious, I could only imagine the trials she had been through over the past three months since the peaceful Kingdom of Verden had been taken over by King Wiscar's daughter and deceiver, Fallon. The Verdens, who had not fallen under her reign of power, had fled; taken in by the elves of Brokilon forest.

The newly crowned Queen Fallon had claimed the mage and elf forged staff, Luminore, wielding it and her own powers to control the Verden army, and put a target on the head of the terrified girl staring back at me now. The only soul in the entire Continent, who could put a stop to Fallon's reign of despair.

Standing, I fetched a waterskin from a pack. "Here, drink." I thrust the waterskin into her hands and leaned back, giving her space again. Her eyes darted to mine, as she sniffed at the mouth of the skin before taking a tentative sip. She made to return it, but I shook my head. "Take as much as you need. We'll be able to replenish at a stream soon. Are you able to ride a little further?" Between sips, she nodded. Ciri flashed in my mind. This girl had the same fire, the same regal demeanour which only blood could create.

"Good. I know a place we'll be safe for the night." A frown crossed her features while I checked over Roach. I'd ridden the mare hard and off any road, ensuring we put distance behind our pursuers. "Not far now." I rubbed her damp neck, taking a short moment for myself before turning back to Eliana. Shakily, she rose to her feet. She kept shaking.

Fuck. She would be freezing in that rag she was wearing. Tugging at leather straps, I pulled my cloak from behind the saddle, shaking it out.

"Here." I draped it about her shoulders but didn't tie it. The rope collar, I hadn't removed it in my haste to get out of the town. Stretching down, I pulled a knife from my boot. She gasped, jolting away from me.

"Sorry, I only mean to cut the rope." Her lip trembled, but she held still, allowing me to sever the rough fibres. Air whistled between her teeth as I eased away the remnants from raw welts against her neck and throat.

"Thank you." She whispered, and I looked from the angry bruising and cuts to those blue-green eyes. Shadows had cast the light from their depths, the light of the elves, but it flickered, a spark of hope.

"When we stop for the night, I'll treat your injuries." Rather than have her walk to Roach, I called the mare to her side, and helped her into the saddle, swinging up behind her. We'd lingered here too long. The woods were deepening, the sun casting long shadows to the West.

As before, I pulled her flush against my chest, forcing a small cry of pain from her lips. "Sorry, but this will be better in the long run." I murmured, nudging Roach into a lope. We needed to be deeper within the pine-laden foothills of Gory Ogniste before nightfall, with a fire going, before the wolves went on the prowl, or worse, the army caught us.

Toss a coin to your Witcher; thoughts and questions welcome.